


This Time Won't Be The Last

by Dolavine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Couch Sex, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 3, Dean’s crossroads deal is canon. Sam is afraid of losing Dean, afraid he’ll go to hell without ever knowing how he really feels about him and after years of pining for Dean, he’s finally going to show him. He only hopes that Dean feels the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Time Won't Be The Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wings128](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/gifts).



> Written for this Bday prompt by wings128 : Dean/Sam first time, couch!sex, inner turmoil s1-s4, their eyes catch, one ends up in the other's lap, frantic whispers among the groping and kissing...

The television noise is a faded sound in the back of Sam’s head as he thinks about how Dean has less than three months before his deal is up. Dean’s sitting on the sofa; a beer in his hand and his feet propped up like he has nothing to worry about, but Sam, all he does is worry about it.

There are so many things that Sam wants to tell Dean, so many things that he’s been hiding, been keeping deep inside of himself for so long, and now there’s a chance he could lose Dean forever if they can’t find a way to get him out of this deal. He’ll go to Hell never knowing how Sam really feels.

“Need another beer, Dean?” Sam grabs himself a beer.

“Yeah.” Dean chugs the last few swallows and holds up the empty bottle. 

Sam opens the bottles and sits down next to Dean, handing him an icy-cold brew. “What are we watching?” He’s not quite sure as he’s not been paying attention.

“ _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ , it’s a classic.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and takes a swig of beer.

Sam watches as Dean takes a drink from the long-neck bottle. The way his adam’s apple bobs with each long swallow, and how his lips hold the bottle’s mouth tight between them as he downs the frothy brew makes Sam’s cock tingle with arousal. He clears his throat, takes another drink of his beer, and leans the cool bottle against his inner thigh, trying to quell the building hard-on. 

“You would consider that a classic.” Sam laughs and shakes his head.

“Hey, dude, it’s on the freaking AMC channel.” Dean points his index finger at Sam. “That solidifies that it’s a classic movie.” He takes another swig from his beer while still side-eyeing Sam.

“I concede.” Sam throws his hands up and laughs. “Spicoli is a god.”

“Damn straight he is.” Dean smiles wide and holds his beer up to signal a salute. 

They enjoy the rest of the movie, Sam stealing longing glances at Dean, knowing that he is going to miss this, hoping he doesn’t have to, but being realistic that he probably will. His heart is heavy and it doesn’t help that all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Dean and hold him, kiss him and tell him everything is going to be alright. 

“Another brewski?” Dean gets up and heads to the fridge.

“Nah.” Sam’s absentmindedly picking the label off of his warm beer. He wants to open up, have a real heart to heart with Dean, but he knows that all he’ll get is blocked with some clichéd one-liner like _No chick flick moments_. 

“I got you one anyway, that one has to be warm.” Dean shoves a beer in Sam’s direction. 

“Uh, thanks.” Sam reaches out, his fingers grazing over Dean’s knuckles when he goes to take the beer from his hand. Sam’s belly flutters and his mouth goes instantly dry. He can’t bear the thought of losing him, can’t stand the idea of not acting on how he feels either. He takes a deep breath and looks up into Dean’s eyes. Dean’s grinning at him, a soft glint in those green eyes of his, and Sam falls even deeper, even harder, and wants him more than he ever has.

“What’s wrong, Sammy, you look kind of, of sick or hungry or something.” Dean furrows his brow with concern.

“I — I guess I’m hungry.” Sam’s still touching Dean’s hand; he can only imagine how much he must look like a lovesick school boy or a horny teenager. He closes his hand around the beer, making sure to cover Dean’s fingers with his palm. He swallows hard, his dry tongue protesting the movement when there is nothing to push down. 

“Want a sandwich or something?” Dean looks at Sam’s hand covering his own.

“N-no.” He shakes his head and squeezes Dean’s hand tighter against the cold bottle of beer. “I…” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I — I’m not hungry for food.”

Dean scoffs, purses his lips as if he’s going to say something but doesn’t, and then looks into Sam’s eyes. His expression softens; he swallows audibly and sighs like he’s resigned to something that he’s resisted for so long. 

“Oh…” Dean says it like he’s had a revelation. He licks his lips and moves in closer to Sam, their legs touching now. “I — I don’t know what…” He bites his lower lip and then runs his tongue over the area. He’s looking Sam up and down, their hands still clutching the bottle. 

“It’s…” Sam’s other hand comes down on Dean’s knee. “Just been so hard and I — I need to let you know, tell you — show you — how I feel.”

“Are we going to hold this bottle all night, or…” Dean takes the bottle from Sam’s hand and puts it on the table. Sam’s hand is still intertwined with Dean’s even though the bottle is gone. “That’s better.” Dean leans in, his eyes catching with Sam’s. They stare into each other’s eyes; then, with no words, no hesitation, Dean moves in and meets Sam’s lips with his own for a tender kiss.

It’s soft and wet. Sam’s heart is racing. He tightens his grip on Dean’s thigh, his fingers digging into the hard muscle. Dean cups the back of Sam’s neck and threads his fingers through his long hair. 

“Oh god, I’ve wanted this for so long,” Sam whispers into the kiss. He lets go of Dean’s hand and wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulder to pull him in closer.

“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean slides his hand down Sam’s side, feeling the hard flank under his t-shirt. He tightens the grip on Sam’s hair and pulls his head back, then slides his tongue over Sam’s lower lip and then along the inside of it. “You taste better than I ever imagined.” He swipes across Sam’s tongue before pulling out. 

“Mmmm, Dean,” Sam whispers against Dean’s probing mouth. “So long, oh god, so long.” 

They’re kissing and groping, making it a slow burn as Dean presses into Sam. His leg is slung over Sam’s thigh; his knee is digging into the ratty motel sofa for purchase. Dean’s got Sam’s head pulled back into the sofa cushions, his fingers wound even tighter through his hair. Sam’s grinding roughly against Dean’s thigh. The tension is building between them and Sam can’t believe this is really happening.

“I’ve wanted you forever.” Sam’s looking into Dean’s eyes. His hands glide over Dean’s back and down to his hips. He takes hold and tries to pull Dean down to sit across his lap. 

“Holy…” Dean breaks free from Sam’s grip and tumbles past him onto the sofa. He laughs and grabs hold of Sam to pull him down too. Sam goes willingly, his body splayed out on top of Dean’s. 

“I — I want you to know something.” He caresses Dean’s cheek with his thumb. “You need to know exactly how I feel — how I’ve been feeling for a long time now.” He pauses to examine Dean’s reaction.

“Go ahead.” Dean pushes up and kisses the soft flesh behind Sam’s ear. “I’m listening.”

“When we were kids, I tried to ignore or find excuses for getting all tingly when you’d touch me. Told myself it was admiration or the fact that I was a sick horny teenager.” Sam lets his hand work its way down to the waistband of Dean’s jeans. “When I was in college and I missed you so much it hurt, or all I could see was you when I masturbated, I lied to myself and called myself deranged.” Sam’s fumbling with the button on Dean’s jeans.

“N — no, Sammy, it wasn’t just you,” Dean blurts out, his hands gripping tight to Sam’s ass cheeks, pulling him in closer. 

“Let me finish.” Sam pops the buttons on Dean’s jeans. “When you came for me, came back and got me, I couldn’t deny my love, my lust, the deep burning desire I had for you. I can’t — just can’t — let you leave me never knowing how much I love you — how I love you.” There is a tear in Sam’s eye as he leans down and kisses Dean. This time it’s more desperate, needier than before.

“Oh, god, Sammy.” Dean rocks up into Sam’s groin; they’re both hard and the slight rotation of Dean’s hips creates a great friction between them. “I can’t remember never loving you, always wanting you, wanting to be more than your protector and more than your brother.” He squeezes both of Sam’s ass cheeks. He draws his knees up on either side of Sam for leverage. “If I had only known, if you had only told me.” He thrusts up into Sam’s groin as he pulls him down, harder. 

Sam pushes down hard, his body thrumming with desire as Dean’s words and body make him feel like a virgin again. He wishes he could give it all to Dean, let him take everything away from him for the price of love. “We have now,” Sam says breathlessly.

“Then why are we wasting time talking about it?” Dean grabs the hem of Sam’s shirt and pulls it up, awkwardly yanking it off of his head. Dean roams his hands all over Sam’s chest, stopping to tweak his stiff nipples, to twist them and pinch them, and Sam gasps at the pleasure-pain.

“Oh fuck.” Sam bites his lower lip and arches his back as he gyrates into Dean’s fat hard-on. “So delicious,” he moans.

“I thought you’d like that, you pinch them when you jerk off at night.” Dean sits up and sucks a nipple into his mouth, laves his tongue over it and then nips the crest. Sam yelps, thrusting against Dean even harder. Dean meets his pace, frotting into Sam and sucking his nipple.

“Ooooh, damn!” Sam yells. Dean lies back down, his fingers still twisting and pulling on the rosy buds. Sam shoves his hand between them and down inside of Dean’s jeans and boxers. He squeezes at the long length trapped against Dean’s hip. “You feel so good.” He rubs over the shaft and thumbs the head, smearing the thick bead of precome over it. Dean trembles under his touch, his hips arching into Sam’s hand. “Going to make you come,” Sam says as he pushes down to Dean’s balls and strokes the swollen tight sacs. “You are so ready to come.” Sam leans down and bites Dean’s lower lip, sucking it in and letting it slip out. 

Dean’s grabbing at Sam’s shoulders and bucking into Sam hand. “Yeah, come on, Sammy.” Dean’s on edge: his belly is fluttering and his cock is pulsing, and he’s ready to come when Sam suddenly stops. “What the hell?” Dean groans and tries to get more friction.

“I wanna watch you come, want to see it all.” Sam sits up and shimmies Dean’s jeans down, exposing his full leaking cock. “So beautiful,” Sam gushes. He lets his fingers lightly dance over the glistening wet head. He looks up into his brother’s lust-blown eyes and smiles. “I want to come with you, on you, and mix it together.” Sam’s words are dark and lascivious. He unzips his own jeans and puts Dean’s hand down inside. “Take me out,” he commands. Dean does it, pulls Sam out and strokes over his dick. Sam moans and pushes into the loose movements. He lines Dean up alongside his own cock and encircles them both. He starts to move over them as he pumps into his hand and against Dean’s impossibly hard cock.

“Christ, Sammy, I’m gonna blow.” Dean puts his hand over Sam’s and interlaces their fingers, following his pace. He pushes into their grip, Sam’s cock rubbing over him dryly; the friction is intense and he can’t hold on any longer. He lifts off the sofa and grunts as he comes, the pearly strings landing on his own belly. 

“Yeah, so gorgeous,” Sam cries out. His body is shivering, his heart racing; he can barely breathe when he follows Dean over the edge, the thin white spray landing on Dean’s belly and mingling with Dean’s cooling jizz. He pumps and squeezes until his cock is empty and his balls are drained. He runs a finger through the mess, feeling its sticky wetness. “I’ve waited so long for this.” Sam collapses on top of Dean. He kisses him softly.

“Sammy, you’re so fucking hot.” Dean’s stroking his hair as Sam kisses his neck softly, his heavy breath hot against Dean’s sweat-dampened skin. “Why did we wait so long?”

Sam grunts then moans contentedly. “Because, it’s dirty-wrong-bad.” Sam caresses Dean’s face and then lets his hand fall against Dean’s throat. He doesn’t want tonight to end, and he doesn’t want tomorrow to come. He wants to stay just like this forever, nestled into his brother, safe and sound and together.

“Then I don’t ever wanna be right.” Dean wraps his arms around Sam and holds him tight.

The end.


End file.
